


Perfect

by ithilien22



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-14
Updated: 2010-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-22 16:09:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithilien22/pseuds/ithilien22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By all appearances, Blaine is the perfect gentleman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect

It’s not as if Blaine has a ton of experience, you know, sexually. But he has _some_. And he is a teenage boy, after all, so he thinks it can’t be entirely his fault that sometimes when he’s alone with Kurt, his eyes linger on the curve of Kurt’s mouth for a little too long and he starts to imagine what it would taste like or maybe even what it would look like wrapped around his…well. That’s beside the point.

Because the point is that he’s decided to take it slow with Kurt, not to push. He’s seen what the kid has been through first hand, and he’s definitely come to the conclusion that what Kurt needs right now is a friend, not another guy trying to sexually harass him. So when they’re together, Blaine tries his best to be the perfect gentleman, the understanding friend, the sage mentor. He even tries his best not to stare at Kurt’s ass whenever he leaves a room.

(Well, he does _try_. It’s not his fault that Kurt has a totally smackable ass.)

So really, all things considered, Blaine thinks he should be given some kind of a medal for his overall self-restraint and good judgment. It’s been almost five weeks since he met Kurt and he hasn’t so much as kissed the younger boy’s cheek, let alone done anything that could be construed as remotely sexual. Honestly, he expects to be nominated for sainthood any day now.

But at night, alone in his dorm room with the door locked and a bottle of KY on his bedside table, Blaine maybe isn’t quite as saintly. Because the thing is, even if he doesn’t actually _do_ anything with Kurt, he does _think_ about doing things with Kurt. A lot. And in his fantasies, they aren’t exactly walking hand-in-hand through the halls in slow-motion.

In fact, his current favorite actually has he and Kurt sprawled out in the backseat of Kurt’s Lincoln Navigator, windows steamed and clothes already half-off. In this particular fantasy, his hand is fisted in Kurt’s usually perfect hair, while Kurt’s tongue lightly traces along the underside of Blaine’s cock. He imagines the silky heat of Kurt’s mouth as he wraps his own fingers around himself and begins to stroke softly.

As much as Blaine loves the scene that begins to unfold in his mind, he also knows not to pull too hard at the threads of these fantasies. He has a feeling that if Kurt knew he’d mused up his hair (even just in _thought_ ), he probably wouldn’t speak to Blaine for a week. And Kurt is sort of particular when it comes to his car, so Blaine kind of doubts he would jump at the chance to have messy sex in the back seat of it. But, you know, _fantasy_.

And fantasy Kurt _really_ doesn’t seem to mind Blaine’s fingers in his hair, if the breathy moans ghosting over Blaine’s cock are any indication. Blaine’s hand speeds up just slightly, and he bites his lip as he imagines strangled moans vibrating around him.

But it isn’t quite enough tonight. Maybe it’s because he’s been overusing this particular scenario lately – it has been a crowd favorite for about a week now. So Blaine switches gears and suddenly he and Kurt are no longer in the back seat, but instead laid out across Blaine’s bed, mimicking Blaine’s real life state. Kurt leans over him, his smile somehow coy and seductive all at once.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of Blaine’s ear.

Blaine feels the shiver run all the way through his body. A sound manages to escape his lips, but it’s less of an actual word and more of an inarticulate, _nnnggh_. He slips his other hand underneath himself and presses in slightly, imagining it’s Kurt’s hand as he does so.

“Is this what you want?” fantasy Kurt murmurs, pushing in more insistently with two fingers now, “or were you hoping I’d just forego the fingers and shove my cock inside of you, fuck into you so hard you won’t be able to sit down for a week?”

Except the question is clearly rhetorical, because just like that, Blaine’s tensing around his fingers and shooting all over his hand and his stomach. But Kurt’s voice continues to echo in Blaine’s ears, even as he slowly comes down from his orgasm. He can see Kurt’s smirk so clearly that he almost feels as though it’s etched into his eyelids.

Gently, Blaine removes his fingers and slumps back down against the pillows, feeling sated but kind of dirty. The image of Kurt still flits around the edges of his mind even as he’s already starting to drift off to sleep.

And okay, so maybe the next morning, as he sits across from the real life Kurt in a coffee shop halfway between Lima and Westerville, Blaine can’t help but feel a little bit distracted by the way Kurt’s fingers drum against the edge of the table.

But hey, nobody’s perfect.


End file.
